


not yours

by merrymegtargaryen



Category: The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 19:15:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5597677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merrymegtargaryen/pseuds/merrymegtargaryen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Hayffie drabbles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“This is not going well at all,” Effie fumed. “Thank goodness for Cinna, or else Katniss’s interview would have been a complete disaster. She barely remembered to smile!”

“The crowd loves her, and they love that Peeta loves her. Or says he does, anyway,” Haymitch amended. “With any luck, we’ll get sponsors wanting to keep the star-crossed lovers alive for as long as possible.”

“Maybe,” Effie huffed. “I still think that temper of hers is going to get her in trouble.”

“It could also keep her out of trouble,” said Haymitch. He gave his glass a small shake, the ice inside clinking. “What’s up, sweetheart? You’re more than usually uptight this evening.”

“Of course I’m uptight,” she snapped. “Katniss shot an arrow at the Gamemakers, she almost ruined her interview, she attacked Peeta, the Games are tomorrow, and you’re being no help whatsoever!”

“I’ve never been so helpful during a Game before,” he said in a faux-miffed voice. “Besides, there’s not much I can do at this point.” When Effie huffed again, he cocked his head. “What? Open up, princess.”

“It’s nothing,” she lied. And then, a second later, she burst, “You didn’t have to insult my dress, you know!”

Haymitch smirked. “So that’s what’s pissing you off.”

“I’m not…pissed off,” she lied again. “It’s just, it’s bad manners, Haymitch!”

He shrugged in a would-be nonchalant way. “Just stating a fact: it’s not a nice dress.”

Effie opened her mouth, ready to unleash a verbal thrashing.

“Maybe you should take it off,” he suggested, a twinkle in his eyes.

Effie looked around so quickly her wig nearly fell off. “Haymitch!” she hissed. “Anyone could hear you–”

“Everyone is gone or asleep,” he said, taking a step closer. “The children are in bed, it’s just…you and me. And this dress that’s putting far too much space between us.”

“H-Haymitch,” she said weakly as his hands searched for a zipper. “We shouldn’t, it’s such a bad time–”

“You’re so tense,” he murmured in her ear. “Let me help you…unwind.” The sexy moment was ruined when he made a noise of frustration. “Dammit, woman, how d’you take this thing off?”

“Manners, Haymitch,” Effie trilled.

Haymitch groaned. “Please take off the very lovely dress.”

Effie beamed. “Well, since you asked nicely.” And she danced into her room, shedding the very lovely dress.


	2. Chartreuse the Goose

Effie knew he was coming by the ungainly stomp.

“Effie,” he growled. “What the hell have you done to my geese?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about,” she lied, reading her gossip magazine. It was expensive to have it mailed all the way to District 12, but well worth it.

“Yes you do.” He stood over her. “Why are my geese wearing dresses?”

“Oh, that.” She took a sip of coffee. “Well, Haymitch, you have to admit, they look much better now. Not all bland and boring the way they were before.”

“They’re geese, Effie.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “You put dresses and hats on my geese.”

“Yes, and they’re dressed better than most of the people here,” she said, wrinkling her nose.

“Effie.”

She huffed, finally lifting her eyes to meet his. “If I have to look at them all the time, they might as well look pretty. Everything here is so drab. You people from District 12 have no appreciation for aesthetic whatsoever.”

“We’ve had bigger problems,” Haymitch reminded her. “Look, it was bad enough you giving them frouffy names–”

“Chartreuse is a perfectly lovely name.”

“–but I draw the line at clothes. I want you to take them off.”

Effie hmphed. This was not going at all well. But then she had an idea. “What if,” she said, “I took off my clothes instead, and we just leave the geese alone?”

Haymitch frowned. “You can’t seduce your way out of everything.”

“Oh yes I can,” she said primly, turning back to her magazine.

The clothes remained on the geese, and Chartreuse was the (second) smartest-dressed individual in District 12.


	3. rock me, mama, like a southbound train

t’s a long train ride from the Capitol to 12. Effie’s never liked it–she always feels, even after all this time, like she’s headed for the reaping, going to take two children from families they will never see again. She smooths the material of her dress, clutches the hem as she stares out the window. That’s how she sees Haymitch standing at the station when her train pulls in. She smiles at him, flounces down the steps and into his arms. He’s usually happy to see her (even if he doesn’t always admit it), but the way he holds onto her today feels, well, needy.

“I missed you,” he murmurs into her ear, and the way his hand squeezes her hip, bunching the material of her dress, makes her heart sing and ache all at the same time.

He fucks her against his front door as soon as he closes it. It’s rough and desperate and she can’t tell what it is yet, but Effie knows something is different.

It isn’t until later that night when they’re drowsing on the patio Katniss and Haymitch built, full of food and wine and the humid night air, that Effie puts her finger on it.

Haymitch is scared.

She’s seen him scared before, seen the way his hands clench like he’s trying to find something to hold onto. It’s me, she realizes as his fingers trace the length of her spine–he’s holding onto me.

She doesn’t know what to make of it. She sits and lets the conversation happen around her, and when Peeta comments that she looks tired, maybe she wants to go to bed, she doesn’t fight it, just lets Haymitch take her home.

Not her home, she corrects quickly. His.

They make love in his bed, and it occurs to her that he hasn’t stopped touching her since she got off the train.

“Haymitch,” she murmurs later. “What’s going on in your head?”

He doesn’t answer for a while. They’re not used to being plain with one another, not after years spent wary of third parties that might be listening.

Finally, he says, “You’re gonna leave again.”

“Leave?” she repeats, not sure what he means.

“You’re gonna go back to the Capitol.” He shifts.

She considers. “Well, yes. Why wouldn’t I?”

She can hear him breathe sharply. “Eff…what are we doing?”

Effie knows that line. It’s a line that comes before a breakup. She doesn’t answer, just presses the sheets against her chest and hopes she’s wrong.

He releases a breath. “I don’t…I don’t know why you stay there. I don’t think you like it. Not as much as you pretend. But you…you seem to like it here. With me. And Peeta and Katniss and. Well. I don’t know. I thought maybe you’d…” He releases another breath. “It was a stupid thought.”

“You thought I’d what?” She sits up, the sheets still pressed against her chest. She’s never been good at being naked, even now. She’s always worn clothes and makeup better than she wears her own skin.

“I don’t know.” He sounds frustrated. “I thought you’d come here one day and just…not…leave.”

She’s surprised, but not because the thought has never occurred to her before; it has. As hard as the ride to 12 is, it’s even harder going back to the Capitol. “Do you…want me to stay here?”

He doesn’t say anything right away, and that makes her nervous. But then his fingers find hers and he twines them together. “Yeah,” he mumbles. “I really do.”

Neither of them sleeps much that night, and when the first streaks of dawn creep into their bedroom (their bedroom), Effie goes downstairs in a borrowed shirt to make coffee. She could do this, she thinks as she glides around the kitchen she knows so well (she ought to–she was the one who organized it). She could wake up in his bed every morning and make a big pot of coffee. She could live in this house (but the monochrome color scheme will have to go). She could even live with the geese. She could make a home here. It isn’t like she has anything keeping her in the Capitol–Haymitch and Katniss and Peeta are the closest thing she has to a family anymore, and her clients in the Capitol can find any number of willing hands to replace her own. Besides, District 12 could use a little color.

She hears him shuffle down the stairs and into the kitchen. He wraps his arms around her waist from behind and rubs his whiskery face against her neck. “You’re drowning in that shirt.”

“As if you aren’t enjoying the view,” she trills. “And in case you weren’t aware, there isn’t a single stick of butter in this house.”

“I’ll go next door and borrow one,” he says, pressing a kiss to her ear before letting go. She watches him lumber over to Katniss and Peeta’s, and when he comes back she has a steaming mug of coffee ready for him.

“I’ve been thinking,” she says, swinging her feet into his lap.

“Uh-oh.”

She digs her toe into his stomach. “Quiet. Anyway, I’ve been thinking, and…well, the next time I leave here I think is going to be the last.” She says the last part in a rush, dropping her gaze to her coffee.

When she looks back up, Haymitch has a stupid grin on his face. “You mean that?”

She tries not to return the stupid grin. “Yes.”

He still doesn’t stop touching her, and Effie thinks he might still be a little bit afraid. So she starts putting her things in his closet and drawers, shoving aside his scattered clothes and making room for her own.

“Haymitch,” she declares in a huff. “This closet will never do.”

“So use the second bedroom for a closet,” he scoffs, but he’s grinning while he does it. “Hell, use the third or fourth bedroom. Use the whole goddamn house for all I care. We have a whole house full of rooms.”

We, he says, and Effie beams.

He’s still a little afraid when she boards the train back, but he lets go of her hand and shoves his fists in his pockets. “Come back,” he tells her.

“I always do,” she says.

They watch each other as the train pulls out of the station, and then everything is a green blur and Effie leans back against the seat. The journey back to the Capitol has never been easy, but today she can almost bear it.


	4. without words

“You know, I like you better, Effie,” says Haymitch, watching the way she self-consciously touches the bareness of her head, “without all that makeup.”

“Well, I like you better sober,” she says, and Haymitch forgets what he’s writing.

They spend a lot of time in each other’s bunks on the pretense of annoying one another. Effie takes his clothes and turns them into accessories. Haymitch keeps threatening her, but his threats are hollow when they both know she looks better in his clothes than he ever could. She curls up in a ball when the Capitol attacks, and Haymitch tries to talk over the noise. He purposely mispronounces words to annoy her out of being frightened–she’s still more frightened than annoyed by the time the bombing finishes, but she squeezes his hand and lets him drape a blanket over her shoulders.

They have a long goodbye the night before he takes Katniss back to 12, and she isn’t expecting him to say or do much of anything when she sees them off. So she’s surprised when he tells her, “Don’t be a stranger, Effie,” and kisses her. They’ve never kissed in front of anyone, especially the children, and it stuns her breathless through her smile.

It isn’t until later, staring in a mirror, that she realizes what it all means.

She shows up in 12 a few weeks later complaining about the train ride and the state the Capitol’s in. She complains even more about the wreck that is Haymitch’s house.

“If it bothers you so much, why don’t you fix it?” he taunts over the rim of his glass. She tells him putting his feet on the table is bad manners and Haymitch laughs.

The next time she comes back to 12, his house is cleaner than it was. It’s still a wreck, but the clutter is mostly gone and she can tell he’s been doing repairs.

“I suppose it will have to do,” she says, and Haymitch tells her that she has bad manners to say something like that.

“You’re one to talk,” she huffs.

She sews new curtains for him and he tells her they’re too flashy, but he puts them up anyway and gruffly admits that he likes them better than the blankets he used to pin over the windows.

”Look, are you two in love or what?” Katniss demands.

”Does a bear shit in woods?” Haymitch retorts.

”Manners, Haymitch,” Effie scolds. “Of course we’re in love, Katniss. What a silly thing to ask.”

”I’ve never heard you say it,” Katniss points out.

They smile at each other. “Yeah,” says Haymitch, “Guess you haven’t.”


	5. a night off and a dress

When Effie was a little girl, her nanny used to read to her every night. Her favorite story was Cinderella. It was all wonderful, but Effie’s favorite part was the end, when Cinderella married the handsome prince and lived happily ever after. That part always made Marcella snort.

“All that girl wanted was a night off and a dress,” she used to say. That always made Effie huff–it was so unromantic. Adults never had any imagination.

Effie had always dreamed of being Cinderella, but somewhere along the way she’d become a fairy godmother.

As a stylist, she transformed dull tributes into angelic visions, made sure that their memories would survive long after the Games. As an escort, she delighted in introducing girls and boys with dirt under their nails to a world of flowing gowns and extravagant food and scented baths and silken sheets.

“I think it’s one of the wonderful things about this opportunity,” she gushed in a speech that she regurgitated every year. “That even though you’re here and even though it’s just for a little while, you get to enjoy all of this.”

When Katniss and Peeta came out of the arena together, it was just like a fairytale. Star-crossed lovers who had beaten the odds. And all right, it wasn’t strictly real, but they were her first victors and they had made history. They got to have a happily ever after no one else would ever have.

And then the Quarter Quell came and everything changed. The last thing she remembered was Haymitch pouring her a drink–when she woke up, she was surrounded by bland gray walls. Her dress and wig were ruined from the journey to 13 (which, she reminded anyone who would speak to her, she had never agreed to) and they gave her a jumpsuit. She found ways of managing, of course–she was Effie Trinket. She repaired her dress and managed to mostly restore her wig (not that anyone would have noticed–these cave-dwellers had absolutely no imagination) and debuted them both at Finnick and Annie’s wedding.

“Just when I was getting used to you in jumpsuits,” Haymitch said with a crooked grin.

“You know,” she said, watching the dancing, “When I was a little girl, my nanny used to read Cinderella to me. I was so caught up in the magic and the romance of it all, but my nanny used to say that all Cinderella wanted was a night off and a dress. I don’t think I ever really understood that until now.”

Haymitch laughed. “Well, those aren’t exactly glass slippers, but it’s a hell of a dress.”

“Oh, this old thing?” she teased. “I didn’t have a fairy godmother helping me, but I do look rather wonderful, don’t I?”

They fell silent, watching the dancers weave around one another.

“You know,” said Haymitch, “My mom always used to tell it where there is no fairy godmother. Cinderella does everything herself. I always liked that one better.”

For a brief, fleeting moment, Effie allowed herself to imagine a young Haymitch listening to his mother tell him the story. It made her want to cry, so she gave herself a little shake and turned to him. “Well,” she said in her primmest voice. “Are you going to dance with me or aren’t you?”

He thought about it for a moment. “I aren’t,” he said, and then laughed when she huffed. “Aw, I’m just kiddin’, sweetheart. I’ll dance with you, but I’m warnin’ you now, I’m no Prince Charming.”

“Believe me, I am well aware of the fact,” she sniped, taking his hand. He was right–he was no Prince Charming and this was no happily ever after. But it couldn’t hurt to pretend for just a night.


	6. what dreams may come

Effie does not like District 13.

She misses her clothes and her wigs. She misses champagne and coffee and chocolate covered strawberries. Most of all, she misses her sleeping pills. Her pills send her into a dreamless sleep that leaves her well-rested. Without the pills she spends hours trying to fall asleep, afraid of the dead children’s faces she will see when she does.

She starts hanging around Haymitch’s bunk more often and “accidentally” falling asleep. His bunk is a mess even with his limited possessions and he has nightmares almost every night but he’s there and that’s all Effie needs. 

She wakes up crying one night but it isn’t because of dead tributes.

“I dreamt that you left me in the Capitol,” she sobs when she remembers where she is. “I dreamt that you left me behind and they took me and tortured me. I dreamt that no one came for me even when they came for Peeta and the others. They wanted to use me to hurt you but then they realized you didn’t care. You didn’t care.” She shakes so hard she can barely talk and not even the firmness of Haymitch’s arms can make her still.

“I do care,” he murmurs. “It was a nightmare, that’s all. You’re here and I care and no one’s gonna hurt you. Okay?”

She feels like a child again, rocking in his arms as he shushes her. “Haymitch,” she finally says when her heart stops racing and she can breathe without sobbing, “What happens if we lose?”

“I don’t know,” he says truthfully. “I try not to think about it.” He’s quiet for a long moment. “I think I’d kill myself before I let the Capitol take me again.”

He says it so calmly it scares her. “Don’t say that.”

“That’s why I try not to think about it,” he says with a shrug. He brushes his thumb over her cheek. “You ready to go back to sleep, sweetheart?”

“No,” she says. “I never am.”

She lies down beside him anyway, presses her back to his chest and pulls his arm across her. He wakes her with a jolt in the morning but she doesn’t mind–he’s there and that’s all Effie needs.


End file.
